


your name is oil poured out

by Lysandra



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Feelings, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Masturbation, Other, Sexual Content, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysandra/pseuds/Lysandra
Summary: "Look at you. You’re like a pretty doll." Bartimaeus’s voice was velvet in the back of Nathaniel’s head, and there was definitely sensuality there now - at least, there was for Nathaniel.
Relationships: Bartimaeus/Nathaniel (Bartimaeus)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	your name is oil poured out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maiden_of_the_Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_the_Moon/gifts).

> Thanks to Maiden_of_the_Moon for enabling this atrocity and brainstorming with me. :V

Nathaniel was a very private person.

In his past life, this had often verged on (justifiable) paranoia. But even before that, even before it had become a habit drilled into him through years of training, Nathaniel had kept himself shuttered tight. His likes and dislikes, his idiosyncrasies, the person he was on those rare occasions when he wasn’t being watched - these were things he kept closely guarded.

There was something almost _ profane _ about having had Bartimaeus inside of his body. It was such an outlandish violation of his private insecurities and fears that it felt indecent. If there was anything that his short career as a magician ought not to have led to, it was this. And yet.

And yet he felt  _ empty  _ now, as though Bartimaeus had always been there, and now that he was gone there was a raw, itching void left behind. As though Nathaniel’s body had made room for two and now functioned half as well with a single occupant. Loneliness was not a feeling that had bothered Nathaniel before. It was a very strange thing that it came to him now, when he was less alone than he’d ever been.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Sat across the table from him, Bartimaeus crossed his arms irritably, Ptolemy’s features settling into a pout.

“Oh. Sorry.” Nathaniel rubbed a hand over his face. “Usually you don’t notice.”

“Na- _ thaniel _ . Honestly. What do you even summon me for these days? Standing around looking pretty? Just get an orchid if that’s the case.”

Nathaniel sighed. “An orchid doesn’t need half as much attention. Frankly, it’s a wonder you can stand not being summoned at all times. The Other Place must be full of mirrors for you to preen in front of.”

Bartimaeus reeled a bit at that, eyes wide. “Now, that was actually  _ mean _ . And it was creative, which is  _ really _ out of character. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” said Nathaniel morosely. 

“You’re all pale and mopey. Are you ill?”

“No.” Nathaniel shook his head, swallowing down the satisfaction he felt at the hint of genuine concern in the djinni’s voice.

“Hungry? Tired? Phlegmatic?”

“No.”

“Did you see a man who looks a lot like yourself only more attractive and it made you upset, like that one time at-”

“Bartimaeus! Shut  _ up _ .”

“I can’t; I have a condition. Don’t mock the disabled.”

The noise that stuttered out of Nathaniel was somewhere between a huff of laughter and an irritated groan. He rubbed his chin, then his collarbone, little self-soothing gestures. Then he blurted out, “It’s only...I haven’t felt right, since…”

Bartimaeus cocked his head. “Really? How so?”

“I can’t explain it. I simply feel  _ wrong _ , like I don’t quite fit inside my own skin. You must have knocked something loose in my brain when you were rummaging around in there. I knew it was a stupid risk, but Kitty insisted.”

Bartimaeus put his chin in his palm, elbow propped against the table. “Aww, Nat. You miss my company.”

“I miss your...something. Your energies, perhaps. For all the trouble you caused, there were parts of it that were almost pleasant.”

Bartimaeus gave a smile that seemed a bit more predatory than the situation called for. “For my part, I enjoyed not being in pain. It seemed as though I had twice as much energy. If I occupied you while less depleted...hm. There’s an idea, actually.”

“What?” said Nathaniel, smothering his relief. “Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?”

Bartimaeus grinned at him and licked his teeth. “Mind if I spend the weekend at yours?”

* * *

_ This is ridiculous _ , thought Nathaniel as he sketched out the pentacles. 

_ This is ridiculous,  _ he thought as he said the incantation.

_ This is ridic- _ oh.

Bartimaeus surged into him like a strike of lightning, and Nathaniel nearly toppled over from the jolt of raw power that rolled up his spine. For a brief moment, all the hairs on his body stood on end and the muscles in his face twitched at random. He could feel Bartimaeus settling himself, unfurling like a cat stretching after a nap. It was surprising - shocking, really - how easily they clicked together, like a snap closing on a winter coat. Nathaniel felt for all the world like he’d regained something he’d lost, like some missing piece had slipped seamlessly back into place. It was a feeling of familiarity, contentment, wholeness. And that made him feel very small, almost childlike. There were echoes of a part of his life that Nathaniel could no longer remember, a time when he had been happy and had felt safe and loved. Before that feeling could fully take hold, he made sure to lock it and everything associated in the dark box at the back of his mind where things he simply refused to think about went. If he so chose, he could take it out and look at it later, when it was safe.

Bartimaeus coughed once and wiggled Nathaniel’s fingers.  _ There we go. Just like riding a bicycle. _

“You’ve never ridden a bicycle,” said Nathaniel. He watched, trying not to get dizzy, as Bartimaeus flipped through the hundreds of images he associated with the word  _ bicycle _ . 

_ Just like riding a horse _ , Bartimaeus corrected.  _ What should we do now? I honestly didn’t think much past getting inside you. Oh, your mind’s gone somewhere dirty. Ha ha! _

Nathaniel hated that he could feel himself blushing. “It was  _ your _ phrasing, and don’t pretend you didn’t say it like that on purpose.” Maybe this had been a mistake after all, if he was just going to be made fun of.

_ I’m not making fun of you. I’m teasing you. _

“What’s the difference?” Nathaniel tapped his foot impatiently.

_ Uh...I’ll let you know when I work that out. We should go somewhere. Walk downtown, maybe. Your house is terribly boring. _

It hadn’t taken him long to get antsy; Bartimaeus was already moving his body, shifting his weight to walk forward. The sensation was less eerie this time, but it still unsettled Nathaniel a tad. He certainly trusted the djinni not to hurl him down a flight of stairs, but the loss of control made him short of breath. It bothered him not to know with certainty what his body was going to do next. And, sure enough, they made it as far as the doorway before Bartimaeus got distracted by Nathaniel’s full-length mirror.

_ Oh,  _ he thought.  _ That’s creepy.  _ Bartimaeus raised and lowered a hand.

“You’re used to seeing something different in the mirror every time you look.”

_ Yes, but this is different. You’re so solid. Look at that. _ Bartimaeus flexed an arm, watching with something like wonder as the muscle bunched and then relaxed.  _ What is that supposed to be? _

“Biceps, triceps, extensors,” Nathaniel rattled off. As he spoke, Bartimaeus tried to isolate and move each muscle group individually.

_ They all move together,  _ he observed.  _ Like a machine. It’s...funny. _

_ Funny  _ didn’t seem an accurate way to describe Bartimaeus’s thoughts, the almost childlike interest with which he observed the workings of Nathaniel’s body. And there was something covetous there, too, as though he were looking at something that was both very expensive and very breakable. Nathaniel had detected hints of this the first time they’d merged, but he had quickly shaken it off. This time, it lingered.

“Let me get something from the study,” Nathaniel said.

_ What’s that? _

Nathaniel showed him a mental picture: a medical text, filled with diagrams of the human body.  _ If you’re curious,  _ Nathaniel clarified. Bartimaeus gave his silent assent; they moved together to the study down the hall. They were much better coordinated than last time, Nathaniel observed.

_ We’ve had a fair bit of practice like this now. It’s amazing the things you get used to.  _

“Don’t get too comfortable,” said Nathaniel. “I won’t hesitate to dismiss you if you become too bothersome.”

_ I’ll be on my best behavior. Oh, is that it? _

Nathaniel pulled a faded blue-grey hardcover off of a seldom-consulted shelf. “I bought this out of general interest, I suppose. Science and medicine are irrelevant to a magician’s studies, so my tutors taught me almost nothing.”

_ You could have been a doctor with a mind like yours, and look what you did instead.  _ Nathaniel skimmed over the disapproval and picked out the part of that statement that sounded suspiciously like a compliment.

“Doctors need bedside manner,” he said curtly.

_ Ah. Fair point. Imagine having a magician treating you. They’d make you apologise for bleeding on their nice clean floor. _

Bartimaeus kept up an uninterrupted stream of similar ponderings as they walked back to Nathaniel’s bedroom. The spirit was in high...well, spirits, but he had reason to be: he was not suffering the usual pains caused by time spent on Earth, nor was he obligated to perform any tasks for his master. Nathaniel wondered for a moment what sort of creature Bartimaeus might have been if that had been his experience from the start - but it didn’t bear thinking about. Nathaniel entered his bedroom and shut the door behind them. He expected no visitors that day, but the extra privacy felt warranted nonetheless. Bartimaeus whistled casually with Nathaniel’s mouth as he cracked the dusty old book and paged through it. 

_ Humans and their labels...there can’t really be this many separate parts, can there? Oh, here we go. Muscle groups. _ Bartimaeus turned the pages slowly until he found a detailed diagram of the upper body.  _ Brachialis muscle,  _ he mused. He held the book nimbly in Nathaniel’s left hand and flexed his free arm, watching the slide of tissue under skin. He rotated Nathaniel’s wrist and curved his fingers, and Nathaniel let him do it. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had shown him this much careful, genuine attention, and the feeling was a good one, even if Bartimaeus was motivated by curiosity more than anything else.

Next the djinni flicked through the pages in the book to find the bones of the human hand.  _ Carpals. Metacarpals. Phalanges. Yep, all accounted for.  _ Nathaniel could see how Bartimaeus pictured them: like ceramic beads held together with twine, some artisanal craft. Nathaniel met his own eyes in the mirror and could see Bartimaeus’s dark intelligence glinting back at him. Then the djinni turned his head so he could look at the tendons moving in their neck. Their fingers brushed through the pages of the book, and Nathaniel watched as Bartimaeus matched the muscles illustrated there to the bunch and twist of real, human flesh mirrored back at them.  _ Sternocleidomastoid. Trapezius. Levator scapulae.  _ His voice was a whispered prayer in the back of a church, hushed and fervent. Nathaniel said nothing to break the sacred silence.

Nathaniel’s own body had never been this interesting to him, but Bartimaeus marvelled at it like it were some fantastic piece of workmanship or intricate machinery. A thumb came up to curve around his jawbone. Nathaniel could feel his own pulse beating there, and sense Bartimaeus listening to it. The rest of his fingers brushed lightly over his throat, not quite tickling, almost caressing. He could feel the ridges of his trachea through the thin skin, and Nathaniel found himself tilting his head back an increment to allow Bartimaeus better access. He swallowed and felt his Adam’s apple bob, and the feeling brought Bartimaeus a satisfaction that was far too close to sensuality.

_ Look at you. You’re like a pretty doll.  _ Bartimaeus’s voice was velvet in the back of Nathaniel’s head, and there was  _ definitely  _ sensuality there now - at least, there was for Nathaniel. Mortified, he forced his hand back to his side.

“Perhaps that’s enough for now,” he suggested nervously. “You wanted to go out.”

_ No, this is interesting,  _ said Bartimaeus.  _ I could care less about your wretched city.  _ Nathaniel felt his hand come up again, and now Bartimaeus was caressing the notch at the base of his throat with a thumb.  _ What’s this called?  _

“I think it’s connective tissue.” Nathaniel’s voice squeaked a bit. 

_ Hmm?  _ Bartimaeus followed the arch of the bone, impossibly flimsy by his standards, but sturdy enough to be the struts that held Nathaniel’s body together. He found the place where it connected to his shoulder and pressed into the soft tissue there, humming quietly at the not-quite-pain. The book in his left hand was discarded casually onto the floor.

“Bartimaeus, the  _ spine- _ ”

_ Oh, hush.  _ Bartimaeus considered the buttons on his shirt. Well, what was the harm? Bartimaeus already knew him as intimately as it was possible for one being to know another; he might as well indulge his whims. He undid the buttons quickly (and he felt Bartimaeus watching the fine-tuned movements of his hands and wrists all the while) and shimmied out of his shirt, but Bartimaeus tossed it onto the floor before he could fold it properly. Nathaniel looked at the crumpled pile of fabric with regret, but Bartimaeus proceeded to examine his bare chest, running a finger over the smooth lines of his ribs.

_ You’ve barely any chest hair. _ Nathaniel frowned.  _ Ahem...not that it matters.  _ Now he sounded almost sheepish. It was exceedingly rude to insult one’s lodgings, though that hadn’t seemed to bother him before. Bartimaeus spread his palm and rubbed it across his flank, feeling the prickle of goosebumps, and Nathaniel inhaled shakily. Pleasant. That was definitely pleasant. More so because the touch was out of his control. He didn’t feel shy, as he might have expected. This was really no different than being undressed alone, Bartimaeus knew him so intimately already.

_ Say, what’s that itching?  _ Bartimaeus paused his explorations.

“Itching?” 

Bartimaeus rubbed his knuckles over the bumps of Nathaniel’s ribs.  _ That. You feel it? _

Nathaniel watched his brow furrow in the mirror. What was he...? Oh. Oh, no.

_ It’s rather pleasant, actually.  _

Nathaniel curled his wandering hand into a fist. “It’s nothing.”

_ What’s wrong? Please don’t start sweating; I can’t bear it. I- oh. I see.  _ Bartimaeus grinned.  _ Honestly. I’ve barely touched you. Touched  _ us _ , I suppose. Now there’s a philosophical quandary for you. _

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel managed, stifling his embarrassment behind propriety. “It doesn’t mean- rather, I can’t help-” What did someone say in this situation?! 

_ Oh, relax. Does it seem like I mind? I told you, it’s pleasant.  _

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Nathaniel sighed.

_ But you get to feel like this all the time. That stops you from properly appreciating it.  _

Nathaniel examined his reflection with a scrutinizing eye. “I don’t think there’s much to appreciate.”

_ You’re wrong.  _ The thought was sharp, almost vicious. Bartimaeus splayed his palms against his sides, thumbs running over the crest of his hipbones. Nathaniel saw Bartimaeus’s impression of him layered over his physical appearance: the rickety scaffolding of his bones, the well-oiled motion of muscles and joints, the way all of it fit together with more precision than even the finest architectural feat.  _ It’s not bad. Though I have to say I like it better from inside. _

“When we first joined like this, you compared my body to a mosque,” Nathaniel said softly. He felt Bartimaeus fidget with embarrassment. After a moment, he collected himself.

_ Before then, I couldn’t understand why humans conceived of their own bodies as holy places. Hearts, stomachs, wombs - terribly narcissistic, it seemed to me.  _ Bartimaeus inhaled deeply, feeling the stretch of Nathaniel’s lungs, the way his belly tensed under his fingers.  _ It makes perfect sense to me now. _

Before Nathaniel could even begin to formulate a response, he was interrupted with a start as Bartimaeus poked a fingertip into his navel. “What are you doing?”

_ Just exploring. It all works together, that’s the thing - it’s a lot less gross when you think of it that way. _ He petted his belly and Nathaniel shivered.  _ Oh, that feels nice.  _ He experimented with sensation: first the broad swipe of a palm, then lightly tracing with fingertips, and when he dragged his fingernails up his chest they gasped in unison. An electric jolt ran down Nathaniel’s spine to settle deep in his belly.

_ Oh, now we’re in business. I feel like we’re really onto something, here.  _ A pause.  _ Show me what to do. _

Nathaniel hesitated, facing himself in the mirror. He was wide-eyed and flushed-faced. Did he want to? Did he dare to?

_ Show me, Nathaniel. _

“Do you really not know anything about...that?” Nathaniel asked. His throat felt dry and he was starting to sweat, though he wasn’t certain whether it was arousal or anxiety. “You haven’t…?”

_ No. I was always able to put that particular duty off onto others. I’d spread rumors, say that So-and-So was keen for it. I won’t try to defend it. That’s the nature of enslavement: it makes monsters of us all.  _ Bartimaeus thumbed the patch of skin under Nathaniel’s right nipple.  _ And here I am pure as the driven snow.  _ Nathaniel had no idea what to say, and so he said nothing, but his relief was immeasurable. The thought of someone defiling his servant in that way had occurred to him more than once in moments of weakness, and always with a surge of gut-clenching horror.  _ But since I used to wash your sheets, I happen to know that you’re plenty experienced here. _

Nathaniel’s jaw dropped. “I- that-”

_ I always figured it was your only hobby aside from aiding and abetting war crimes. _

“I  _ will  _ kick you out. Don’t think I won’t.” Nathaniel’s mouth was smiling, but he himself was not amused in the slightest.

_ Yeah, yeah.  _ Bartimaeus petted his chest soothingly. 

“I won’t do this if you’re going to be crude. Any more comments and it’s over.”

_ I can control myself. _

“Okay, well.” Nathaniel tried to slow the racing of his heart. “This is more comfortable lying down, so I would suggest…”

_ But I want to watch.  _ “Nathaniel.” Bartimaeus said this last out loud, watching as Nathaniel’s mouth formed the word. Their thoughts blurred together, and for one very confusing moment, Nathaniel happened to find his own mouth rather attractive.

“Why?”

_ Oh, for heaven’s sake. Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t know that your body is beautiful? _

Nathaniel blinked, stunned. Bartimaeus pushed his shoulders back so that the muscles in his chest went taut, and he suddenly saw with vivid clarity what Bartimaeus did: idolatry. The perfect embodiment of the human form, a hundred thousand years of art, unfathomable ages of evolution. A bird’s wings spreading, a bow pulled taut, a weapon and a home. It was as alien to Bartimaeus as a djinni’s essence was to Nathaniel, and all the more enthralling because of it.

_ Look at this. Look at you.  _ Bartimaeus found one of Nathaniel’s nipples with his thumb, and they both shuddered at the sudden jolt of sensation.  _ Let me touch you. _

Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly. He had no idea how to accept this. Beyond the sheer impropriety of what he was allowing, he didn’t know how to let himself be appreciated in this way. He inhaled shakily, wondering if Bartimaeus was revolted by the catch of saliva in his mouth. Bartimaeus responded to that thought by raising a hand and slipping a finger into Nathaniel’s mouth. His eyes went wide, but his mouth closed around the finger reflexively. In the mirror, he saw his brow furrow. He pulled the finger back out of his mouth and felt Bartimaeus run his tongue over the backs of his teeth.

“Yes,” said Nathaniel, and stripped the rest of his clothes from his body. Not in a tantalizing way, but a matter-of-fact way, more like a prisoner being strip-searched than someone undressing for a lover. It didn’t seem to matter.

_ My beautiful one,  _ Bartimaeus thought, and Nathaniel was surprised to realize that the words were not English, nor any other language he had studied - but he understood them nonetheless. It was a tongue long-dead, but one that was tethered to Bartimaeus’s heart - djinn had mother-tongues, too. Nathaniel wasn’t certain why that discovery was so surprising. Bartimaeus twisted his fingers into Nathaniel’s hair. It had started to grow long again; long enough to tug on. He did so with delight, revelling in the mixture of pleasure and stinging discomfort, and Nathaniel bit his own tongue. This was ridiculous. This was lovely. Nathaniel looked like a madman, naked in front of a mirror, a modern Narcissus. Bartimaeus stroked the sides of his face, his throat. He wrapped his arms around his torso and pressed his knuckles into the hollows under his arms. He trailed fingers over the thin line of hair on his stomach and sank his nails into the flesh of Nathaniel’s thigh. It stung, but it felt  _ good _ , and Bartimaeus purred with pleasure. He sought out the iron-rich river of his femoral artery and pressed his thumb there to feel the throb of his pulse. 

Nathaniel's cock was hot and stiff and his fingers were tantalizingly close now, but Bartimaeus made no move to touch it. He left that to Nathaniel, who took a breath, looked over the edge, and jumped. Wrapping his fingers around himself, he felt that some final line had been crossed. They'd merged in every possible way now, no edges left. Now they shared everything Nathaniel touched himself more lightly than he usually did, mindful that this experience was not his alone, and the brush of fingers against raw, hot nerves was a shock that had the djinni reeling.

_ Oh. _

A bit more pressure now. Nathaniel bit his lip. “Can you feel that?”

_ Yes.  _ The answer was immediate and definitive.  _ I would never have guessed that it felt like this. Oh, I feel cheated. We should have done this right away. _

Nathaniel exhaled heavily. “Calm down.”

_ No. That feels  _ good.  _ Do it more. _

“I  _ am _ .” Nathaniel rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock and Bartimaeus moaned quietly. He felt exposed standing in front of the mirror, but the spirit in his skin revelled in watching. It was more exciting than he would have guessed, being on display. He sucked on his lower lip, made a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper. His sense of touch was more acute than usual for having a djinni in his body, and his nerves felt alight with sensation.

_ Let me do it.  _ Of course he wouldn’t be content to sit and watch. Nathaniel gave his silent consent and Bartimaeus took over. This felt different. His touch was light and exploratory, but Nathaniel squirmed nonetheless. 

“ _ Ah.  _ Do it like I was-” his voice cut off abruptly.

_ No bossing.  _ But Bartimaeus followed the instructions given, rewarding them both with a firm twist of the wrist that made Nathaniel pant.

“Just- oh, please-”

_ We’re going to do this every day.  _ Bartimaeus regarded Nathaniel’s sweaty, flushed appearance with undisguised delight.  _ Maybe more than that. You were made for pleasure, weren’t you? _

Nathaniel’s breaths came short and fast. “For you,” he stammered out. Oh, but it was true. There, in that moment, it was impossible to deny that this had not come from some sudden animal urge, but from a bones-deep bond that they would never be able to erase. Nathaniel felt a surge of such impossible fondness that it made him shake with something like pain. His pleasure - their pleasure - built, the sweet-hot tension blurring their thoughts, and they were two and one and two and one again.

“Bartimaeus,” said Nathaniel, unintended reverence in his tone. He slammed his eyes shut as they hit their limit and, together, broke through. Nathaniel’s knees nearly buckled as pleasure took him. The spirit in his mind was a white-hot inferno, and Bartimaeus gave a silent shout that made Nathaniel’s ears ring. He doubled over, shivering, and for a moment they were silent together, reveling in mutual satisfaction.

_ Ew,  _ Bartimaeus remarked. Nathaniel fought the urge to roll his eyes - a habit which he highly suspected he’d picked up from Bartimaeus.

“What were you expecting, exactly?”

_ I forgot about this bit.  _ He examined the mess they’d made - on his hands, on his thighs - with disappointment.  _ It’s horrid. _

“Well, you get to experience bathing next,” said Nathaniel. “And that you  _ will  _ like.”

_ Well,  _ said Bartimaeus.  _ If you say so. I’ll just make myself comfortable, shall I? _

Nathaniel’s mouth twitched. “Not  _ too  _ comfortable,” he reminded.

_ Perish the thought. _


End file.
